


somewhere to belong

by Molnija



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Established Relationship, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Oneshot collection, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sharing a Bed, and ballroom dancing BADLY, ao3 threw my tags out of order i'm so sad, current offerings include, now with extra sadness!, probably mostly gonna be soft/cute though? I hope??, verses and settings vary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-11-26 08:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20927078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molnija/pseuds/Molnija
Summary: I. scarsII. dance with me?III. dead man walkingIV. ghostnow actually a Fraldarddyd oneshot collection!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> me: okay so I wrote 13k words for them that means I got these two out of my system now right  
my heart: oh you fool. you complete fucking buffoon
> 
> until I get off my butt and finally write the angsty painful things that everyone else has already done better than me, have, uh, this. [underwhelming jazz hands]
> 
> I stole the title from the official OST because I'm bad at titles and I liked the sound of it I'm sorry

Felix’s skin is marked with scars, and Dimitri feels his heart sink a little more with every one he traces.

Small ones on his hands, from knives in battle and old training accidents. A cluster of lightning just above his heart, the source of which he remembers all too well; if the thunder spell had hit him even a centimetre lower down, it would have killed. A long, deep cut across his stomach that he wasn’t there to see happen. Two on the side of his arm, deep as well, a wound that left Felix unable to use that arm until Mercedes and Professor Manuela had it patched up two months later.

Though the bedding is soft and the room is illuminated by the warm fireplace, it serves as a cruel reminder of war.

Felix is lying on his back with his eyes closed, but Dimitri knows he’s awake.

He keeps tracing lines down his body, for as long as Felix will let him, until his hand stops at a particular scar, one that cuts across his abdomen and disappears down below his waistband. He remembers that one all too well. A strike meant for Dimitri, back in Ailell, right in front of Rodrigue—

Felix’s hand is on his, suddenly, and when he looks at him, his eyes are open.

“It wasn’t for you.”

Something in his heart refuses to break, no matter how much it wants to.

“But—”

“It wasn’t,” Felix insists. “None of them were. If I hadn’t been fighting with you, I’d have gotten them elsewhere. The only one I’ve got to blame is myself for being careless.”

“You protected me,” he whispers.

Before he knows what's happening, Felix is above him and he’s being pushed down on the mattress.

His eyes are gleaming with a similar fervour to when they’re sparring as he says, “Yes. I did. I’d still have done it for anyone, and I’m fine.”

He reaches out involuntarily to touch Felix’s hair, long, dark strands that are soft to the touch now that they have the luxury of worrying about expensive soap over how to prepare for the next battle. Neither of them particularly care about appearances, but it’s comforting to feel cleaner, and he’s so beautiful like this. He never wears his hair down outside. It’s a sight reserved for Dimitri only.

There is an inherent softness to the way he looks at him, something he’s still not quite used to seeing. Back then, he was soft, too, in a much worse, terrifying way that he still sees in his nightmares sometimes, alongside the faces of all those he’s hurt. Like for a moment, Dimitri held all the power in the world, and had chosen to use it against him.

“Dimitri,” Felix says, softly yet sternly. “If I blamed you for it, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I know. But sometimes I wonder why you don’t.”

After everything that happened, everything he used to see in him, he has every right to blame him.

Felix is quiet for a moment, frowning at him, then lays down next to him and presses a too-soft kiss to the side of Dimitri’s neck, and his heart skips a beat at the sensation. “It’s battle. If it hadn’t been that, it would have been something else. You don’t look any better than me when it comes to scars, so I don’t get why you don’t understand that.”

It’s not that. He does understand. But that feeling of regret, unreasonable as it may be, is persistent. He doubts it will ever truly fade.

But there’s something calming about Felix by his side, insisting what he knows to be the truth when he can’t bring himself to quite believe it himself.

“Thank you,” he whispers, to Felix, but also to the world – to the professor, to Rodrigue, to Gilbert, to anyone and anything that allowed him to be here in this very moment.

“I don't really believe in fate,” Felix says quietly against his skin, “but if I did, this would be it.”

“It’s comforting to think it would always turn out this way,” Dimitri muses with a smile.

“Our fathers, and their fathers, and generations over generations all the way back to Loog and Kyphon. Even if they weren’t all like us, that kind of bond …” He sighs and nestles even closer. “I never really had a choice, huh? What a pain.”

It is a pain sometimes. There was a time when Dimitri thought he wasn’t worthy of being in love, even though he was always craving him – so when he finally let his feelings go free, he was utterly unprepared for it, like a dream had come to life to show him that there’s no turning back.

He’s aching, more often than not, with how much he loves him.

“I …” Felix doesn’t finish that sentence, instead he shifts and leans in to kiss him, deeply and passionately, and it’s full of things left unsaid, _I love you_s he hasn’t told him yet. Dimitri finds himself stroking his hair as they’re kissing, feeling that he has to touch him _somehow_, if only to make sure he’ll never leave.

When they part, just far enough to speak again, Dimitri mutters, “You don’t have to say it.”

“How else are you supposed to know?”

“I do know.”

“You don’t,” Felix insists. “Not always. Not really.”

Perhaps he’s right. There’s moments late at night when he wakes up in a cold sweat and feels like he has to run, far, far away to where nobody can find him, because that’s all he deserves. Felix is there, then, soothing him with gentle words and the occasional insult, until finally the realisation settles in that he’s not just there because he has to be.

But no matter how many times he doubts it, in the end, he always believes.

“I do right now,” he says and pulls him ever closer. “And I love you, Felix.”

Felix makes a weird little sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and coupled with his blush, it’s exceedingly cute. Dimitri only recently learned that he can still be this … Adorable, something he thought he’d destroyed with his own hands years ago.

It always manages to put him at ease.

Felix mumbles something he doesn’t catch.

“What was that?”

“I said— Nevermind.” He shifts once more so he’s lying on his side, not quite as close as before but still close enough for Dimitri to feel his warmth. “I just … Agreed with you. That’s all.” And he closes his eyes again, declaring this conversation over.

Dimitri looks at him for a long time, watching his features relax into something softer when sleep takes hold of him, and wonders, despite everything, if he’ll ever hear him say it clearly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if this reads like it was written under the influence of ... something, that’s because ya girl had a grand total of zero (0) hours of sleep tonight and frankly everything feels a bit like a strange fever dream right now
> 
> ... sorry if the first one gave you standards. but hey, at least this oneshot collection is now a thing? and it’s not super sad & painful just yet? rly when I say oneshot collection it's more like connection of unrelated snippets written in record speed because of Feelings I’m so sorry if you expected, like, quality and polish. usually I'd put that kind of stuff on Tumblr, but I promised a oneshot collection you are getting a oneshot collection goshdarnit  
does any of that even make sense oh my god I'm so tired
> 
> idk please just take awkward dancing & decidedly not jealous (coughs) Felix partly based on real-life occurences
> 
> (the awkward dancing with a friend with an ending that felt like I was ripped out of reality for a minute part, not the diplomatic royal marriage part. while I’m fortunately far removed from that latter bs ... I may be aro, but not even I am immune to the power of pretty girls and fanfic tropes. although we were better dancers than these two.)
> 
> no proofread written 90% on my phone with iOs's new swipe typing feature which messes up words sometimes WE DIE LIKE MEN OH AND this is pre-relationship obv ........... oh no I'm gonna have to adjust the tags aren't I

Dimitri and his bride look like they’re having fun.

It’s rare to see Dimitri on the dancefloor and even rarer for his smile on it to be genuine, but here he is, twirling his new wife around, and Felix is watching.

She’s smiling, too, and her movements are skilled and elegant, a lot more so than Felix’s would ever be. When they spar, they tend to be about even – she’s the daughter of a minor lord who passed away in the war, but far from a helpless noble, something he appreciates. Felix considers her somewhat of a training partner, maybe even a friend. A good wife for the king, both as a person and as a diplomatic marriage, finally getting the city she oversees more involved in kingdom affairs after years of relative isolation.

Very, very … _Involved_.

They dance on and on and he feels his mood sinking with every measure. He supposes he’s partly to blame for it, preferring to hide away in a corner until he can leave at the earliest opportunity, but there’s a part of him that can’t help but wonder.

The bride is smaller than him, but he knows from experience that their fighting styles aren’t that different, both focused on speed and accuracy. If he bothered to learn how to dance, could he—

He shoves that thought back down where it came from before he can regret it and finally looks away.

The music ends eventually, as it always does. If this was the ball back at Garreg Mach, he’d get pestered by Sylvain to at least dance once, so in the end he’d pick the nearest person he knows won’t make fun of him (Mercedes, he remembers) and force them through an awkward waltz just for the sake of shutting him up. But this is a wedding party and Sylvain is on the other side of the ballroom, doing the same thing to Ingrid.

And to his horror, this time the king and his queen are coming right toward Felix.

“What were you staring us down for?” she asks with a knowing grin. “I could feel your piercing look all the way over there.”

“It’s not my fault you two were like an accident to witness.”

“Painful, but you can’t look away?” she muses. If there’s one thing he appreciates most about Dimitri’s bride, it’s that she’s unfazed by Felix’s attitude. He doesn’t know what he would have done if he’d gotten a queen that would judge him for every word he says.

Dimitri laughs, but it’s subdued and sound like he’s forcing it. “Come on, we weren’t _that_ bad ... If you think that way, will you not dance with me?”

What.

“I don’t dance,” he responds more on instinct than anything. A bit more consciously, he adds, “Especially not with you.”

“With me, then?” she says and laughs too, and that one he has no trouble believing.

“Not in a million years.”

A giggle and a knowing glance at her king, like she has Felix completely figured out. Truth be told, she probably does. It’s aggravating.

Dimitri is looking more confused than anything. “I was just suggesting, since … You are my advisor.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Advisor or no doesn’t matter. Plus, it’s only been a year and a half. Not like he’s particularly grown into his role yet, aside from the part where he gets to scold him for making bad decisions. “If you want to dance, dance. You don’t need me for it.”

“Oh, I get it,” the queen murmurs just loud enough for him to hear. “He’s scared he’s going to lose to me on the dancefloor too, after I already beat him with the sword yesterday.”

His hand twitches.

“It’s not that I can’t dance. It’s that I don’t want to.”

“You can dance?” Dimitri asks, and Felix considers punching him for the surprised tone in his voice. Problem is, he knows it’s warranted – he can’t dance for shit. Doesn’t mean he’s going to just stand here and let her say that.

“About as well as anyone,” he lies.

“Really? With your sword technique, I could even believe it!” She claps her hands together enthusiastically. “But I don’t. Not until you show me. You guys go off and dance together and I’ll be the judge!”

This woman used to remind him of Annette. He knows by now, however, that that was an unfair comparison to make. Annette could never be this cruel.

She’s playing him like a fiddle and now he really can’t say no without losing face.

Not that he’s not going to lose face dancing.

“Fine,” he snaps and grabs Dimitri’s wrist to drag him toward the dancefloor, refusing to look at the queen’s certainly smug face.

He’s had one dance lesson in his life, many years ago. He tripped over his own feet and Glenn laughed at him so hard Felix started crying (he’d deny that part, but as fate had it, Ingrid was there to witness it, looking about equally as miserable). Ever since then, he’s skipped out on lessons whenever there were any. Even if he had more experience, it’d only be leading, not following, which he’ll certainly have to do here.

This is going to be a disaster.

“You lied,” Dimitri states matter-of-factly once they’re on the dancefloor. “She was just riling you up and you could not bear the thought of admitting your defeat.”

“How very astute of you, boar,” he snarls. “You better lead me well, because I don’t intend to lose to her.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“You were the one who asked me. Commit to it.” As much as he’d like to leave and never come back, he’s here now, and he doesn’t back down from a challenge, especially not when it’s coming from the woman Dimitri just … Married.

He reaches for his hand and hopes for the best.

They’re clumsy. Of course they are. He knows that just going along with wherever Dimitri pulls him is probably the better decision, but he’s starting to think most of what made their dancing so good earlier was actually his wife – and it’s not helped by the fact that he really wishes he was wearing gloves so he didn’t have to feel their hands touching like this, skin on skin—

“You really are bad at this,” Dimitri remarks when Felix steps on his feet for the third time since they started.

“I told you to lead me well, didn’t I? It’s your fault.” Goddess, he hopes the queen isn’t watching them too carefully. Knowing her, though, she’ll give him a full written and signed report on how badly they failed.

“Everyone is watching us.”

They probably are. Dimitri’s not only the king, but also the groom of this wedding, a wedding that had people from all across Fódlan come to watch. It’s a big event, after all, for the king to get married, and at such a young age. And what a beautiful couple they are.

He grips Dimitri’s hand tighter.

“Want to go back and dance with your precious new wife? I’m sure she’d be delighted, if only to lord it over me.”

How happy they were, dancing together. Felix has no use for that sort of thing.

A step to the side. A clumsy twirl that almost makes him fall. For someone who’s so quick on his feet in a fight, he sure is embarrassing himself.

“Felix,” Dimitri says in that tone he can’t deal with.

Hands touching, no fabric between them. They’re close, so close, _too close_, but he can’t break the hold.

“Well, you asked for this, so you’re getting it, whether you want it or not.” If he ever had any idea what he was doing, he loses it precisely the moment he moves in even closer, and suddenly it’s almost a slow dance but with nowhere near the poise for it.

“I did, I … I do.” Dimitri sounds breathless, stupidly so, like they’ve been sparring instead of dancing, and Felix relishes in the effect he has on him for the fraction of a second before he remembers the ceremony again.

White flowers, grandiose music, the archbishop officiating the wedding, all of Fhirdiad watching.

Felix can’t give him that. He can’t even give him a proper dance.

He doesn’t want to. He never has. But there’s part of him that wants to try, the same part that’s the reason Dimitri had his hair done by Mercedes and not him even though he asked him for help, because he couldn’t stand being with him so shortly before the wedding.

“Then appreciate it. I’m not made for this nonsense, but here I am anyway, with you.”

Close. So close. He could kiss him, if he wanted to. He doesn’t. He doesn’t want to.

Laughter from Dimitri, quiet, warm, familiar. “I do appreciate it. I never thought I would get you to do this.”

“You didn’t. Your wife did.”

He’s not sure what exactly they’re doing anymore. Dimitri’s hold on him is firm and he’s being swept along with their awkward movements, each step like he’s dancing closer to the edge and it’s inevitable he’s going to fall.

“I have to thank her, then,” Dimitri says with a smile. “She is pretty smart for getting you to do even this.”

“Stop patronising me,” he mutters, but it sounds weak even to his own ears.

“That was not my intention.” His expression says otherwise, a grin he usually only sees on him when he’s reminiscing about something from years long past, most of it embarrassing for Felix more than anything.

“Hush now,” he shoots back. “If you just want to mess with me, you don’t need a dance for it.”

His feelings don’t mirror his words. He’s glad by now that he’s holding onto Dimitri, because his legs are feeling weak and he doesn’t trust his own ability to stand up straight, let alone dance.

He could. He could pull him down and kiss him, with everyone watching, just like his bride did at the ceremony.

His _bride_.

Yes, Dimitri needs an heir, the kingdom was in shambles just a year and a half ago and any display of stability is needed, but why now? Why her? And why did he look so happy dancing with her, when a person he actually loves may be out there, heartbroken? Felix never cared much about these things, but this just doesn’t feel right. It _isn’t_ right.

“I hate you,” he says.

Dimitri just blinks at him.

“I …” He’s vaguely aware that he’s pushing him now and that that’s probably not how you’re supposed to do it. “I mean it. I hate you.”

It doesn’t feel like he means it.

“For what?” Dimitri asks, following his steps in a way he shouldn’t, like he’s forfeiting his lead.

“This farce of a wedding.” Dancing in some stuffy ballroom with his best friend, his king, who has a wife now that he doesn’t even love, or so Felix thinks – wants to think, maybe.

“Nothing will change,” he assures him like he’s calming down a child, and he hates him for that, too.

“Bullshit. You’re married.”

They narrowly avoid bumping into something – or someone –, but he has no idea what it was. He’s just chasing him down now, step by step by step, like he’s backing him into a corner when they’re fighting, except their hands are still linked and he feels like he’ll get set on fire.

Until Dimitri stills all of a sudden, and it’s only then that the world shifts back into focus and he realises that the song they were dancing to is over.

Everything is loud. The chatter of the people around them, the blood rushing in his ears, his own breathing, heavier than he’d thought. Dimitri is blushing deeply and if the heat in his cheeks is any indication, so is Felix.

He practically rips his hand away from Dimitri’s and steps back. “There. You got your dance. Happy? Now leave me alone.”

When he returns back to the corner he picked as his hiding spot, still slightly disoriented and with no idea where Dimitri is going to go now, the queen is still there to greet him.

“Diplomatic marriage,” she reminds him, smug as ever.

“Shove it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the queen has a name but I’m afraid to mention it cause she’s an old OC I put into FE3H-verse and her story is not as pretty as it sounds from this. also she may become an antagonist in a future fic. so. (mainly because she's got some badass lines of dialogue that I want her to say but want to also give to Dimitri kinda ANYWAY I'M GONNA. SLEEP NOW PROBABLY GNIGHT)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's two reason why this one exists
> 
> 1) I love Goddess Tower scenarios idk it's pretty  
2) I really, really wanted to write Felix being rude
> 
> I guess technically this matches with the last one, but these aren't supposed to be connected I just like the idea of Mercedes and Felix dancing badly because Mercedes is warmth & patience incarnate and she's the only one who'd do it
> 
> writing pre-timeskip Dimitri is a whole pile of [confused nija noises] there's a very thin line between all the aspects of his character and I can't make him /too/ much of anything it's. annoying and I probably didn't do a good job of it BUT DANG IT I SAID THESE WOULDN'T BE QUALITY SO LIVE WITH IT
> 
> also this one can totally be read as platonic, mostly due to the fact that they're not even really friends right now

Dimitri likes the Goddess Tower.

Getting up high helps him clear his head, and the stars twinkling above him remind him of how small his troubles are in comparison to the vastness of the skies. Especially now, in Ethereal Moon nights that remind him of Faerghus, there’s something soothing about breathing in the cold, sharp air.

After the stuffiness of the ball, where the hall is warmed up by too many candles and too many people, he finds himself drawn to it once more.

The echo of his steps on the staircase has become a familiar sound, and he’s gotten used to the silence of the hallway nobody ever seems to pass through. Even on a night like this one, most people don’t bother coming up here unless they have someone to join them; he ran into the professor earlier, but that was it. He was prepared to have company, with it being the night of the ball, and yet nobody seems to have come.

That’s what he thinks until he finds a familiar silhouette on the terrace, staring out into the night, and almost turns right back around.

“Felix,” his treacherous mouth whispers anyway.

He only realises how calm his friend’s posture was when it’s not anymore. He stiffens, shoulders rising, and when he swirls around with as deadly a speed as in battle, his boots click too loudly on the stone floor.

Felix looks like he wants to say something – maybe _what are you doing here_ or _leave_ –, but all Dimitri receives is the same dark stare that’s been eating away at him ever since he came to the monastery, two thirds disgust and the rest disappointment.

Dimitri crosses the threshold and walks out onto the terrace slowly.

Sometimes it’s a burden to have Felix refuse to look at him, but now he’s being stared down, and that’s just as much of a curse. Ever since he came to the monastery it’s been like this – like he’s walking on a tightrope and any wrong movement would mean his demise.

In Felix’s eyes, the Dimitri he knew has long died. There are moments when even Dimitri wonders if he’s already falling, all hope of rescue in vain as he’s headed for the inevitable impact.

Even so, he doesn’t move, even when Dimitri stops right next to him.

If silence can be suffocating, it’s a miracle he’s still breathing.

“How rare to find you up here,” he says, but it’s strained as it always is when he only speaks to fill the air between them with words.

Thankfully, he at least gets an answer. “Anywhere but at the ball is fine. I probably scarred Mercedes for life.”

Right, he did see them dancing when he left, both of them looking incredibly awkward. “I’m glad you at least tried, even if you were … Well.”

“I don’t need your approval,” Felix spits. “Nor do I need to hear what you thought of my dancing. Though I suppose it’s more of a compliment for you, how good you’ve gotten at putting on that human hide. Back there I doubt anyone saw you for the beast you are, dancing better than me.”

He should be used to it, but it’s still like a slap in the face.

“That is—”

“There was a point,” he continues, each word dripping with venom, “when I thought that maybe you could change. With the professor being a good influence on you, or whatever. As much as I wanted to deny it, I had a little bit of hope. But since Remire … I know now that that hope was foolish. There’s truly nothing left of you. Seeing you pretend like there is makes me want to vomit.”

That darkness is gripping at his heart ever tighter with every waking moment. As much as he wants to beg for him to look at him for who he is, he knows that, more than anyone, Felix is.

“A lot has happened,” he says instead, eyes trained to the ground.

“A lot has happened to all of us. The fact that you know suffering just makes you all the more disgusting. You should know better.”

_He’s right, you know_, a voice not unlike Felix’s whispers from nowhere and everywhere at once. _But he’d never understand._

“You would never understand,” Dimitri echoes that voice.

Felix snorts with no semblance of humour. “You’re right. I don’t understand. Perhaps the mind of a human just isn’t meant to empathise with that of an animal. I don’t know why I even bother trying to talk to you.”

“And yet, here you are,” he finds himself saying.

“I’m not giving you the satisfaction of leaving when I was here first. As much as I hate being around you, I hate adjusting to you even more.”

There was a time, Dimitri remembers, when it was the opposite of this – when Felix would go out of his way to meet with him, even when they had other things to do, because he wanted to spend as much time with him as he could.

A bittersweet memory of days long drowned in blood he himself spilled.

How much more does he have to do until those ghosts stop haunting him, too?

“Stay, then.” He tries not to make it sound like a plea, but it feels like one anyway, like he’s reaching out trying to grab hold of something, anything that could slow his fall. “There is a legend surrounding this place on this night, is there not? If two people make a wish—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Besides, it’s about a man and a woman, not a man and a beast.”

There was a knife thrust into his heart long ago and Felix keeps twisting it, and sometimes Dimitri wonders if the fact that he can hardly feel the pain at all is proof enough that he’s already beyond saving.

“I suppose so.” He scans Felix’s face over and over, trying to find something other than contempt and coming up short, though he probably deserves that, too. All he has to offer are empty words and hands stained crimson, after all. Even so, he keeps up the façade almost automatically, or maybe it is not a façade at all – he has stopped being able to tell long ago. “Do you have a wish?”

“I don’t. Even if I did, I wouldn’t make it with you.” Felix turns his head to look out at the monastery grounds, at the cathedral, at everything but Dimitri. He doesn’t know if he misses his eyes on him.

“Even if,” he says quietly, though he’s not sure if he truly believes it, “we were to wish for everything to be like it used to be?”

Silence.

Heavy, painful, excruciating silence that leaves all the more place for that voice to keep whispering, repeating those same words over and over again. _It can’t. No matter what, it can’t. That’s not why you’re here._

Felix takes a long time before he says, “There’s no bringing the dead back from the grave, and I’ve stopped grieving for you long ago.”

_That’s not why you’re alive._

“I see,” he mutters.

“I’ve made peace with it. I’ll never get you back.” Felix takes a shuddering breath – if from the cold or from something else, Dimitri cannot tell. Nevertheless, his voice remains unwavering. “So stop pretending. If there’s even a little bit of good left inside you, be honest. Save them all the heartbreak, Di— Boar.”

And finally, he turns around and walks away, leaving him with nothing more than the memory of those sharp words and the thought that maybe someday, Dimitri will have to avenge himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much for cute & soft I suppose


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be painful but now it's just  
this  
maybe still somewhat painful. but like. you be the judge
> 
> I know I'm throwing out stuff at record speed rn but don't count on it continuing, it's the first week of uni and I don't need to pay attention in class yet coughs but that'll change soon and then no more distracting myself by writing ... only drawing ... not that anyone is gonna miss me but I don't care about what people think I just shove my writing in your face like LOOK!!! THEY
> 
> also this was posted from my tablet so sorry if the formatting gets fucked in the process,,, these are usually written in my iCloud notes rip

It was a blur of screams and blood that brought them to the infirmary.

Felix doesn’t remember most of it, though the sting in his side is very keen on reminding him of what he does recall – the excrutiating pain of steel gauntlets tearing into his flesh, and how it was all forgotten when he saw Dimitri leaning against a tree, drenched in blood and shoulders heaving with desperate breaths that sounded like death itself.

He might have pleaded. Might have begged for him to stay with him, and maybe it helped, for here they are now, bedridden but alive.

Professor Manuela just about had a heart attack when she saw them, but the castle’s infirmary is eerily well-prepared for people almost dying in ambushes, and in the end the most painful part was listening to Ingrid lecture them for a solid hour about how they should have never gone alone to meet with that lord, how he was obviously still on the Empire’s side even now, and how they are both idiots and she cannot be believe she is associated with them.

That, and the barely conceiled sob when she went on about how she could have lost them too.

One of the worst things about being stuck here is that he has nothing to distract him from the thoughts. There’s no way to clear his mind when all he has for distraction is Dimitri in the bed next to his, sound asleep most of the time. He supposes he does need the rest, but a selfish part of him wants him to stay awake and humour him, if only so he won’t go mad from the thoughts piling up and up in his head.

Thoughts like Dimitri looking up at him, eye unfocused, muttering, “Glenn.”

He was in actual life-threatening pain, but somehow, that one word hurt worse.

Felix groans and throws an arm over his face to cover his eyes. That’s over now. It’s been over for years. How long will he be standing in a ghost’s shadow, chasing the light but never reaching? It’s downright pathetic how he’s still letting it get to him, despite all his efforts.

“It’s your fault,” he says to Dimitri. It’s not, really. He probably wouldn’t joke like this if he could actually hear him, lest he take it to heart – it took him long enough to come to terms with the idea that it might not, in fact, have been his fault –, but he’s asleep and Felix is mad, or something else, so all bets are off.

“I’m sorry.”

Ah.

So much for that.

Dimitri is lying on his side and turned away from him, but he’d given no signs of being awake, perfectly calm breathing and all. For a moment, Felix wonders if he’s sleeptalking before dismissing that thought. He’s never talked in his sleep, not before Duscur and not after it.

“The ambush,” he elaborates, though it wasn’t really what he meant. This is the only alternative to blaming him for something he shouldn’t. “Everyone said you shouldn’t listen to them and bring bodyguards instead of coming alone. You should have at least brought Dedue.”

“They would have never let us into the city if we had come with someone else,” Dimitri argues, which he supposes is a better alternative to wallowing in self-pity.

“Then we shouldn’t have come at all because the trap was obvious.”

Dimitri hums. “I know. It was foolish of me. You could have died.”

Oh, he’s the worst. “You  _would_ have died if I hadn’t been there. Not that you would have noticed either way.”

“What do you mean?”

Felix sighs. “Nothing. You focus on getting back on your feet. My old man would scold me if he saw you like that, for not protecting you properly. And he’d let you off scot-free for some goddess-forsaken reason ...”

“Oh, he did scold me.”

The answer comes so quickly, so nonchalantly, there may not have been anything wrong with it at all. It takes a bit for the realisation of what he just said to settle in, creep up slowly like the shadows in the corner of the room when the sun goes down.

He thinks he might be shaking.

“Do you still hear them?”

“Sometimes,” Dimitri admits. “But I refuse to listen. It’s easier to ignore them now that all that is left of them is whispers.”

“But they’re still there.”  _He’s still there._

“I ...” He finally turns around and there’s a bittersweet smile on his face that he can’t stand. “I doubt they will ever truly go away. I don’t want to keep looking at them, or for them, but two weeks ago at the ambush, I saw Glenn.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but that was just me.” That may be the worst, most sore wound of all – and Felix thinks it wasn’t from the ambush.

Listen to him, being jealous of a corpse.

Glenn is long gone. If ghosts were to truly exist, Felix would certainly not be the kind of person who could see them. He has nothing to prove to anyone.

Even so, he shifts and pushes himself up, ignoring the pulsing pain in his arms that he’d gladly forgotten about until just now, gets up to stumble over to Dimitri’s bed with legs weak from wounds and disuse, and climbs in.

It’s a bed meant for one person and Dimitri is big enough to make even the thought of someone else being in there seem absurd, but Felix’s mind hasn’t been working clearly for two weeks and if Glenn is watching, even if just in Dimitri’s mind, he wants him to see.

It’s almost worth it for the comical look on Dimitri’s face alone, how he’s instinctively trying to make space but just ends up looking lost, hands hovering a few centimetres above Felix’s body.

They’re close like this, close enough that he could embrace him or push him out depending on his mood, but instead, he settles on just lying there, relishing in the warmth Dimitri’s body radiates.

“Glenn is gone,” he says, whether to himself or to Dimitri he does not know. “If you want me to be some cheap replacement for him, then say so. I’ll leave and spare us both the effort.”

He knows he’s probably being unfair. It doesn’t matter.

“That’s not ... That wasn’t my intention. I’m sorry.” He sounds it, at least, but that just makes it sting more.

“If he hadn’t died, he’d be here in my stead now.” Right by his side, never straying. Before they reconquered Fhirdiad, he would have never believed that it’d be something he’d wish for, not after all that changed, yet here he is, aching.

Dimitri has the audacity to laugh. “Glenn would be a terrible advisor. You may sound the same sometimes, but I trust you more to not tell me to, and I quote, ‘punch that stuck-up bastard in the face and tell him to ... Eat shit’ when a noble is being difficult. That one was about Margrave Gautier, by the way.”

That ... Does sound like somehing Glenn would say. It also sounds like something Felix would think, but he has a bit more tact than to just spell it out for him. Also, hearing Dimitri swear, even when quoting someone, comes close to an out-of-body experience.

Felix has no reply to it.

“But really, I appreciate you being here. Even if Glenn was still alive, I would have chosen you. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I would not.” His voice is so unbearably soft. So painfully honest.

But he doesn’t know what he gets like when faced with death.

“Empty words. You can say that because it’s not up for debate anymore. Even if you don’t believe it yourself, you see him in me, and that’s—”

“I do,” Dimitri interrupts him. “Your fighting style is the same. You make the same face when you have to eat something you don’t like. Your insults are the same, too, and you both hate to lose in the same way. Of course I see him in you. You grew up together, he is a part of you, just like Rodrigue is. Just like I am.”

“That’s not the same thing,” he whispers and buries his face in Dimitri’s chest, but refuses to reach out and hold onto him. “I’m me. Nobody else.”

“You are.”

“Then don’t call me Glenn!” he snaps.

It wasn’t quite a shout, he said it muffled against Dimitri, and the room is full of furniture and decoration, but it still feels like the words leave an echo in the following silence.

Dimitri finally lowers his hand and wordlessly rests it on Felix’s side.

Neither of them move.

“I’m not Glenn. I’m not one of your ghosts. I’m Felix Hugo Fraldarius and I’m alive, and if you can’t see me as that, what else am I supposed to do?”

“Wait for me,” he says.

“For how long? My whole life? I have been waiting, Dimitri.” He’s not quite sure what he’s saying anymore – it’s true that he waited, even when he thought he'd lost all hope, for Dimitri to return to him. And return he did.

But to whom?

“I know.” His voice is wavering now, almost pleading. “I don’t know myself sometimes what is real and what is not. But I know that right now, you are Felix. I never felt the same way about Glenn that I feel about you, so I am certain. Sometimes it still doesn’t feel real that I get to be with you like this ... So wait for me, until every part of me has understood that you’re here with me. Please.”

Oh.

Something sparks in his chest and suddenly Felix is on fire, and he can’t tell if he’s burning alive or if it’s a spell to bestow an unknown power upon him. Whichever it is, it’s overwhelming, and he’s finally clinging to him now, desperate to drag him down with him.

How many more times can he fall for him, knowing that in the end, it’s more likely he’ll get hurt? How much more of that can he take before he breaks?

“I will,” Felix mumbles into Dimitri’s chest. “And if it kills me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Fraldarddyd is fun to write because it combines all the dumbass pining & suffering in silence from my other favourite ships to write, Ikuhiyo and Akaoi, except there's also. uh, war and murder and extreme trauma

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading and also d'ya ever think about how [strangled noises of love & appreciation] _they_
> 
> [Tumblr](https://ohmaekumiko.tumblr.com/) // [Twitter](https://twitter.com/svmias)


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